Mind Diving
by TheFantasticPhantomWriter
Summary: Professor Snape has officially lost his mind. Not only has he assigned a ridiculously difficult Potions assignment to his Sixth Years worth more of their mark than can possibly be considered reasonable, he has also decided to make a rather dangerous decision and force Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy into a partnership that will last the entirety of the year. M/M eventual drarry smut.
1. Sixth Year Beginnings

_A few notes before the story... This is canonical plot divergent, meaning that it is mostly based on the original platform that half-blood prince gave me, with my own twists. Some noted twists I've added are: Harry made it into the Sixth Year Potions class, so we'll assume that either Harry did fantastically on his OWL or Snape lowered the required grade to get it. Also, Snape is the Potions teacher instead of Slughorn, to make the whole "partner you with your worst enemy to torture you" plot line a bit more viable. People know Voldemort is out there but he is in some form of hiding and no activity involving him is really going on. Also Draco's parents are in Azkaban awaiting trials for association with Voldemort, which you'll learn more about later._

_Enjoy the story!_

_PS: Please note that this story is also posted on AO3 and it was also posted by me, under the same handle that I use on this website. If you'd prefer to read it there, feel free!_

* * *

It was going to be one of those days. Harry knew that the second that he sat down between Ron and Hermione in Potions and Snape turned his venomous gaze to where he sat. A rather disturbing smile graced his face for a moment before he turned around again with a flamboyant twist of black robes and waved his wand carelessly at the chalkboard in the corner, words appearing as though an invisible hand were drawing them there. Any conversation that had been ongoing in the classroom immediately ceased as though someone had dropped a blanket over them.

"Your first potions class of your sixth year of your education at this school," began the potions master, turning to observe the class with an expression of what appeared to be subdued delight on his face, which never boded well for anyone. "You may have gotten the required OWL grade to get here, but do not be mistaken, I believe in none of you any more than I did in the past several years I have had the misfortune of being your professor." Hermione fidgeted nervously in her seat, evidently a bit downtrodden that Snape did not have faith in her abilities.

"Today we embark on a journey down the winding road of potion making, and a perilous and difficult road it shall be. Before now you have been given easy, simple-minded tasks that any dunderhead could complete if they have the ability to read a set of instructions. This year, we are going to move onto some of the most important aspects of this art… Intuition. Logic. Creativity and innovation. All traits which I fear none of you possess." Snape took a moment to smirk at the class, at Harry in particular.

"I have organized a project of sorts that will test whether or not you have the requirements to continue on in this field of magic. It will take place over the full sixth year, although let there be a warning to you, it will be a rare occasion that you will work on it in your class time… that is, _my_ time."

"He's off his rocker," Ron hissed sideways to Harry, looking at Snape in disbelief. "No way can he assign a year long project outside of class. It's not fair!" Harry grimaced in agreement but didn't move his eyes from Snape, who looked nothing short of gleeful to see the horrified looks on all the faces of his class.

"The project," he began, lowering his voice so that the class leaned closer in suspense. "Is to produce a potion that allows you to access the brain of another human being. It is a potion of unbelievable difficulty, and there are few others that differ so much from one person to another. You may find that for one person, a simple lilac petal will shape the entire outcome of the potion to your liking, but place the same ingredient in another cauldron… and you may find there are disastrous effects." He looked much more pleased at the idea of his students suffering from side effects than he probably should have.

"Professor!" exclaimed Hermione, throwing her hand into the air and nearly leaping from her seat in her anxiety to be answered. "Please sir, don't the properties of this potion, namely the free access to somebody's mind, make it illegal under ministry regulations?"

"Sit down Granger, before you hurt yourself," sneered Snape, turning his nose up at her. "Did you not stop to think that not all potions that access the mind are used for nefarious purposes? This potion in particular would be a favourite of those mediwizards that work with the disturbed mind were it not for the fact that the potion was so difficult and finicky to brew. As it stands, it is a last resort, but a very effective one if made and used properly. It does not, in essence, allow you to see all that the mind has to offer, but is designed from case to case based on what is required to be seen. For example, if a mediwizard is dealing with a case of extreme post traumatic stress that has caused an almost comatose state, as long as the patient has moments of alertness, no matter how distorted the waking moments of the person, this potion could be brewed to see exactly why the person is so distressed, and appropriate measures can be taken to cure them. Next time you have foolish questions, naïve girl, wait until I have finished my explanation before asking them."

Hermione looked down at her lap and bit her lip to stop herself from retorting angrily. Harry could tell she was still convinced the potion went against some sort of morals, but she said nothing more on the subject.

"Now, if I can continue without being interrupted," said Snape, glancing around the class with his lip curled. "Then I shall explain what you are to do with this assignment." Predictably, nobody said a word, so Snape continued speaking.

"You will all be paired together for this project, and every one of you will brew a potion to access your partners mind. Be warned, you must only access the parts of their mind that they consent to you accessing, lest you want this to delve into illegal territory, as I'm sure we all want to avoid." Harry swore he heard Malfoy laugh quietly. "It is possible to design the potion to access only good memories, which I believe may be a safe route for the majority of the class. If that also comes as a concern, you may design it to only access dreams, or perhaps a certain event in their life. I do not care what you choose to delve into, as long as it is not going to cause any undue stress upon my life, which would sadly include any illegal consent issues."

"An intricate part of this process is getting to know a little bit about the person you are going to be exploring the mind of. Because of this, I will be assigning your partners today, and you will be expected to sit with them for the remainder of the year." There was an outbreak of muttering at this statement, but Snape quickly cut it off with a snap of, "Listen up, I am listing off the partners now!"

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione and knew immediately that there was no hope of being paired up with either of them. Snape hated him far too much to allow him to have it that easy, though Harry knew his excuse if confronted about it would be that he simply knew Ron and Hermione too well and therefore would have an unfair advantage over the rest of the class. Not that it made him feel any better. If he had any luck at all, maybe Snape would have the decency to pair him up with someone that wasn't in Slytherin… he would even accept Ernie Macmillan, despite how pompous he could act at times…

"… and Harry Potter." Harry lifted his head as he vaguely heard his name through his clouded thoughts. Everyone seemed to be staring at him, and he had rarely seen Ron look so horrified in his life. If his ears got any redder they may catch fire.

"Sorry?" he said, confused. "I didn't catch that."

"Amazing listening skills as always, Potter," Snape replied. "Five points from Gryffindor, I think. What I said, Potter, is that your partner for the assignment is Draco Malfoy."

Did Snape really want someone to die this year? If he was willing to pair up the most vicious rivals in the entire castle, he was making it quite plain that he was not too concerned for the safety of any of his students.

"You're joking," Harry exclaimed out loud, looking between from the pleased looking Snape to the poisonously angry Malfoy who seemed to be barely holding back his opinion on the matter. "You can't be serious, nobody in their right mind would pair us up for a _year long_ project!"

"I don't appreciate this backtalk, Mr. Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor. Perhaps Mr. Malfoy can teach you some manners during the time you will be spending together. Now move, take the seat beside your partner, and not another word out of you."

Angrily, and cursing Snape the entire time in his head, Harry shoved his books back into his schoolbag and stomped over to the chair beside Malfoy, throwing his bag onto the table and staring straight ahead, determined to fully ignore anything the blonde had to say about the arrangement. Thankfully, he seemed as disgruntled over the situation as Harry was and he didn't say anything while Snape continued his speech, most of which Harry ignored out of spite. He glanced over to where Ron and Hermione had previously been sitting and saw that Ron was now sitting with Blaise Zabini, his ears as flaming red as ever, nearly blending in with his hair. Hermione was at the set of desks behind him, sitting beside Terry Boot and she didn't look nearly as miserable as Harry figured she should, considering the position that he and Ron had been put in. Especially Harry.

"Class dismissed," was the only thing Harry heard Snape say since he put him beside Malfoy, but it registered clearly in his mind.

Thankfully he hadn't taken anything out of his bag after he was moved, so it took no time at all for Harry to grab his things and attempt to get away from the despicable Slytherin as fast as physically possible. Unfortunately, he was daunted when Malfoy locked his hand around his forearm and forcefully stopped him from leaving.

"I know you paid absolutely no attention to the rest of the lesson," he snarled in an angry tone. "But that is going to change, understand? This project is worth 40% of our entire grade for the year, and both of us need to be successful for the mark to apply. I will not be brought down because of your incompetence." Viciously, Malfoy threw Harry's arm from him and stalked away to walk with Blaise, muttering to him darkly and throwing glares back at his new potions partner.

Harry, stunned by the confrontation, could do nothing but stare after him in shock. Ron approached him while he was distracted and dropped a comforting hand onto his shoulder.

"I just want you to know," said the redhead seriously, "That we are both probably going to die by seventh year."

* * *

_Hey! Thanks for sludging through the first chapter. It was quite short, I know, but I wanted to get the original premise out of the way before diving into the good stuff. Next chapter should be up soon, maybe today or tomorrow. I have a bit written for it already, I just need to decide when I'd like to post more._

_I'm interested in getting a beta for this story, so if you're interested please send me a PM. :) _

_Thanks again for reading, it would be much appreciated if you tossed a review my way! They keep me going._

_~TFPW_


	2. Over The Line

Hermione seemed hesitant to bring up the subject of the new project that had been sprung upon them after leaving the dungeons, and it was a tense silence as the trio walked to the Great Hall.

"You know, this could be a good experience," Hermione finally said as they sat down at their preferred spots at the Gryffindor table for dinner. When she was met with two disbelieving glares, she sighed. "Honestly, you could both do with some interhouse cooperation. If you just try to get to know them, maybe you'll see that they aren't as bad as you thought they were."

"That's easy for you to say," said Ron as he pointed an accusing chicken leg at her. "You're paired up with Boot, he's half decent and he's in Ravenclaw. You're practically in Ravenclaw anyway what with your brains, so it's all and well, but Harry and I are stuck with filthy Slytherins!"

"Ron!" she chided. "That's exactly the attitude that's preventing you from really getting to know them!"

"Why don't you ask Snape to switch partners with me then?" Ron demanded. "Since the Slytherins aren't so bad, why don't you try working with one?"

"I hardly think Snape would be agreeable to partner switching," replied Hermione coolly, focusing on her plate instead of on Ron.

"You never know," muttered Ron, taking an aggressive bite of chicken and scowling at the table.

"Least you got Blaise," said Harry miserably, swirling his mashed potatoes around on his plate. "I could probably handle that, all he does is look intimidating and glare at everything. Malfoy is unbearable, he always has been."

"Maybe…" Hermione started, trailing off nervously.

"If you suggest working together with Malfoy," Harry said, narrowing his eyes at her. She frowned at him.

"Well you're going to have to anyway!" she pointed out. "He's your ticket to making it through potions this year. You need this course to be an auror, Harry! I'm sure you can deal with him long enough to get through the project _civilly_."

"Yeah, maybe, but can Malfoy? It's him I don't trust."

"Don't worry about Malfoy," Hermione waved off his concern in a confident manner. "He's so focused on his schoolwork that he's unlikely to do much to bother you. He just wants to get through the year as much as you do." She paused to look around and once she was sure nobody was listening in, she leaned forwards and whispered, "Besides, he can't really afford to cause a lot of trouble as it is. His parents are in Azkaban waiting to go to trials. They were accused of having connections with Voldemort. Apparently someone from their side leaked a whole lot of names to the ministry. I'm not sure what made them finally listen, considering you brought up their names before and nothing was done about it, but either way, Malfoy has to be on his best behaviour right now. If he steps out of line, his parents could be at more of a risk of going to Azkaban for life."

"How'd you know all that?" Ron asked, frowning at her. "I saw something in the Prophet about names being leaked to the ministry and that they were going to go to trials, but it didn't actually say who they were."

"You learn a lot of things when you don't tune out the world, Ron," she replied, but with a small smile. "I heard Professor Flitwick discussing it this morning with another teacher. He seems convinced that Malfoy's mother is innocent, although I didn't catch his reasoning for it."

"Lot of them should be tossed to the dementors," said Ron with a shrug.

"I thought Malfoy seemed bitter about something," Harry said, remembering how Malfoy had seemed slightly off in potions class. (Ordinarily the chance to torture Harry would have been overwhelming for the Slytherin, but he had only made one nasty comment before he left, and it was less of a taunt at Harry than it was a threat to do his share in the project.)

"Well, I don't blame him. I'd be a little bitter if my family were in that situation as well." Hermione was about to take a bite of her dinner, but the fork stopped halfway to her mouth when she saw how Ron was staring at her. "What?" she asked, irritated.

"Have you gone soft on Malfoy?" he exclaimed. "Do I need to remind you of what he's like, Hermione? He's a spoiled brat that takes advantage of everybody and everything that's put in his grasp. He's a snake, why do you feel bad for him all of a sudden?"

"Malfoy didn't choose the cards he was dealt in life, the same as all the rest of us. He's still a complete prat of course, but if it weren't for the way he was raised, he could easily be a good person! It's just sort of sad, don't you think?"

"I was raised by the Dursleys and I turned out alright by most standards," said Harry. "Malfoy had his choices along the way and he made the wrong ones, that's on him." Hermione raised her hands in surrender and gave up on the conversation.

"So what do you think we'll be learning in Transfiguration this year?" she said brightly, changing the subject.

* * *

Tuesday was a blessedly Potions-free day, and Harry tried his best to avoid thinking about Wednesday, when he had a rather daunting double Potions class scheduled first thing in the morning. He had seen Malfoy since the day before, of course, and he never hesitated to send a heated glare in his direction, but never went any farther than that. When Harry really thought about it, it was unusual behaviour for the blonde. Ordinarily, he would taunt and tease Harry at every turn, even in class under the nose of their professors. Now he merely settled for using his face to convey his feelings, and Harry wasn't sure how he felt about the development.

When Wednesday morning finally came, it was with great courage that the trio made their way to the dungeons for Potions. Hermione was being irritatingly optimistic about the whole ordeal, and Ron had taken to ignoring her completely, leaving Harry to deal with the feud between the two. It was when they walked into the classroom that it really hit Harry that, yes, now he had to sit with Malfoy. For an entire year. Potions had been barely tolerable when he had been sitting with his two best friends, how was he supposed to survive sitting next to what most people would label his arch nemesis?

Ron and Hermione stalked off to their respective seats (saying nothing to each other because of their disagreement, but each bidding Harry good luck) and sat down. Hermione smiled tentatively at Terry Boot who returned the favour, but Ron was sitting at an empty table. Evidently Zabini had not yet arrived. Harry sat down at his desk and was relieved to see that as of yet, Malfoy was also absent from the class. Perhaps he was ill?

"Silence," Snape said, making himself known at the front of the class with a needless order. "We will be waiting a moment for Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini to arrive… They should not be long."

Harry scowled to himself. If it had been a Gryffindor who was late, no matter what the reason, they would have had points deducted instantly.

"No need to wait, Professor," said a smooth voice from the entrance of the classroom. Blaise Zabini stepped into the room, Malfoy not far behind him. "We're here."

"Ah, excellent," said Snape, giving them a smile that Harry could not help but interpret as twisted, no matter what the intent. "And how is the minister today?" Harry raised his eyebrows curiously. They had been meeting with the minister for magic?

"Same as always," replied Malfoy with a hint of a smirk on his face, as though wanting to convey that he had met the minister on enough occasions to know how he was usually doing. "Our meeting was shorter than expected, he's a very busy man."

Harry rolled his eyes as Malfoy deposited himself in the seat beside him, graceful as you please. The casual mentions of the minister made Harrys insides squirm angrily; Fudge was a cowardly man of no real worth, and hearing him spoken about as though he were dignified and noble was a test of his temper. Where had he been when Harry informed him of the return of Voldemort? He had ignored him entirely, pretended the issue did not exist. When the proof of his existence was brought right before his nose, in the ministry itself, he still wished to deny it.

"Let's begin the lesson," said Snape, clearly finished with the pleasantries he'd been exchanging with the two Slytherins.

Harry put his chin in his hand and huffed impatiently. All he wanted was for the lesson to be over. Sitting directly beside Malfoy was doing no favours to his stress levels. He could not help but wait for some kind of taunt or perhaps a silent jinx to embarrass him in front of the class.

"Potter, pay attention," came a mutter from his left, and Harry glanced over to see Malfoy staring straight ahead deliberately and speaking out of the corner of his mouth. "He's talking about the project, you should try to learn something for once in your life."

"Shut up, Malfoy," he replied crankily, turning his eyes to the front and trying to catch onto what Snape was explaining. It was something about getting to know the person whom you were going to be entering the mind of, but it was so boring that he found it difficult to pay attention like Malfoy had demanded. Instead, he almost found himself drifting off until a sharp jab to his knee made him sit straight with a rather undignified squeak.

"What did I tell you?" hissed Malfoy, who had clearly been the one to deliver a painful poke to his knee. "I say try to learn something and what, you decided that means fall asleep in class? Are you that idiotic?"

"It's boring!" exclaimed Harry in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"It's _important_!" Malfoy retorted.

"Now," said Snape, his voice carrying loudly across the room suddenly. "I will be giving you the remainder of the class to get to know your partners. Use the time wisely, as it is unlikely I will be giving you any more class time to work on this. You will see some potential questions to ask each other on the blackboard, but you may also use your own. Begin." With that, Snape took his seat at his desk and began rifling through stacks of papers. Everyone in the classroom looked at each other, unsure, before turning to their partners and fidgeting nervously.

"So, Potter," Malfoy drawled, glancing at the blackboard with a hint of anger still radiating around his otherwise masked face. "Shall we start?"

"You go first, I'm sure you're dying to interrogate me," Harry said with a scowl, reading some of the questions on the board. They were mostly very simple things, but still nothing he was interested in telling one of the people he despised most.

"Alright then," replied Malfoy, pursing his lips as he read the various question options. "What was your most recent dream?"

"How is that supposed to tell you anything about me?" Harry asked dryly, double checking to make sure that, indeed, the question was actually on the board.

"Dreams are very meaningful. Now, do tell, I'm shaking with anticipation." Malfoy rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair as though this were the most mundane thing he had ever done. Deep down, Harry didn't quite blame him.

"I dunno, I think something about flying, and it was snowing as well…" he paused, frowning. "This is stupid."

"I'm the one who has to listen to your pathetic dreams, Potter," replied Malfoy coolly. "I think that's as much as I need to delve into your _fascinating mind, _it's your turn to ask me something."

"Uhh," Harry looked at the board and scrambled for the first one to enter his mind. "What's your favourite colour?"

"Honestly?" Malfoy looked annoyed. "Of all the questions? Fine, I'll indulge you. My favourite colour is yellow. Not the obnoxious kind that demands your attention, but pale yellow. Almost white."

"That's very in-depth," Harry replied, honestly a bit surprised by the answer but unwilling to show it. He had expected green or silver, the Slytherin house colours.

"Yes, yes, let's have tea later so we can discuss the meaning behind it. It's my turn, why did you refuse to shake my hand in first year?"

Harry was taken by surprise at the question. It certainly wasn't on the blackboard; It was a personal question regarding their rocky history, and Harry wasn't sure how he felt about answering it.

"Because… well, you were a prat," he replied, not exactly being careful to avoid hurting Malfoy's feelings. "I hated the way you treated other people like they were below you, I wasn't interested in getting involved with that sort of thing."

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, like he was searching for something deeper in the answer. After a moment, however, he just huffed out something that sounded like "I was better off for it", and gestured for Harry to take his turn.

Harry hesitated to ask the question he wanted answered, but if Malfoy had asked him a question that was off the blackboard and clearly personal, surely he could as well?

"Have your parents spoken to you since they've been sent to wait for trials?" There was a sudden silence, a stillness in the room despite the fact that all the other pairs were still talking loudly around them. Malfoy was frozen in place, staring at Harry blankly. Neither of them moved, and Harry felt a tense atmosphere develop slowly, informing him without words that he had stepped over a line.

"How dare you?" he said quietly, not removing his piercing grey eyes from Harry's face. "How could you bring them up? How do you even know?"

"Calm down, I was just wondering-"

"Wondering what? How my parents are faring in _Azkaban_? Want to know so you can have a little laugh at their expense, do you? Thought it might be funny to ask me how the accommodations are at the wizarding prison? Are they getting their three square meals? Oh, and how about the dementors, surely they're treating them well?"

"No! Listen, I-"

"Shut up!" exclaimed Malfoy. A few people were watching them now, looking curious and apprehensive at the sudden commotion. "You have no right to even _breathe_ a word about them! You keep your nose out of our business, Potter, not one part of you is welcome in it." And with that dramatic conclusion, Malfoy seized his bag from the table and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him in anger.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape called lazily. Harry was too shocked to even argue.

* * *

"What happened?" Hermione demanded the moment they all met up outside the classroom.

"He freaked out!" Harry exclaimed. After Malfoy's outburst, there had been no choice but for him to sit alone in the classroom trying to understand why the Slytherin had reacted so strongly to what he thought was a fairly simple question. The remainder of the class had consisted of the rest of the class staring at him and whispering to the people around them about what had happened, and Harry was not feeling very friendly towards Malfoy by the end of it. Harry had answered _his_ question, hadn't he?

"Yeah mate, we saw that," Ron replied with a roll of his eyes. "What we were really asking is _why_ did Malfoy decide to pitch a fit?"

"I asked him if he's spoken to his parents since they were sent to Azkaban," he muttered. Hermione spluttered something indignantly beside him, so he defensively added, "He asked me a personal question first! He wanted to know why I didn't want to be his friend in first year and it's not like I wanted to answer that either, but at least I didn't go off at him."

"Harry, you're so tactless," Hermione groaned, leading the way out of the dungeons to make their way to the common room for a free period. "Asking him about his family at any point probably would have set him off, let alone now that they're awaiting trial! It's like if he asked you if your parents were doing well! You overstepped a boundary and I don't blame him for his reaction whatsoever, you probably really upset him."

The three of them hurried up the enchanted staircases to their common room, Harry being a bit put out that his friends hadn't been on his side about the whole ordeal. Ron hadn't said specifically that he thought Harry was in the wrong, but it was very obvious from his facial expression that he thought his best friend was a bit of an idiot.

"Home sweet home," Ron sighed, sinking into a large plush chair in front of the fire after they scrambled their way through the portrait hole and into the brightly coloured common room. "I'm going to try to sink as far as possible into this chair and forget about Potions, or any other schoolwork for that matter." Hermione tried to frown at him in a disapproving manner, but she was unable to prevent it from turning into a small fond smile as she sank down in the chair beside him, pulling a book out of her bag and burying her nose into it without a word as they had seen her do hundreds of times before.

"Enjoy," said Harry, turning towards the boys dormitory. "I'm going to go up and lie down for a bit, it's been a long day and it's not even lunch." Neither of his friends responded, Hermione settling for sending him a concerned glance and Ron apparently already fast asleep.

Harry had no intention of actually lying down. When he stepped foot into the dormitory he walked without hesitation to the trunk at the foot of his bed and pulled out a crumpled and folded piece of paper. Carefully, he spread it open on the floor, and with a cautious glance back at the door, he tapped it with his wand and muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The paper immediately began forming a detailed map of the Hogwarts castle and grounds, showing Harry sitting on the floor of the boys dormitory in Gryffindor tower. He folded it open farther and began scouring it for the dot he was interested in at that moment. He noticed absently that Snape was prowling around the kitchens, which was curious, but he ignored him in favour of investigating the Slytherin common room. To his surprise, there was no Draco Malfoy dot residing there as he had expected. Confused, he continued to glance across the map, wondering where else the blonde could be hiding. He barely knew why he wanted to know in the first place, but convinced himself that he just wanted to make sure that he wasn't up to no good as he always seemed to be. Surely he would be in an angry mood after their Potions class and may take it out on somebody? Harry was responsible for preventing that from happening, or so he told himself.

When he finally spotted Malfoy, he was a bit confused by his location. He was by himself, sitting outside in a secluded alcove of the castle wall. Harry frowned at the paper, wondering why Malfoy was not inside wrecking havoc or in the Slytherin common room discussing ways to ruin Harry's life. It was all very confusing. And because it was confusing, Harry needed to investigate.

* * *

_Beta'd by me, myself and I. Lemme know if you see any mistakes! Still beta-hunting for anyone interested._

_~TFPW_


	3. Confusion

Sneaking out of the common room proved a much easier task than Harry originally imagined it would be. Admittedly, the invisibility cloak had yet to fail him, but Ron and Hermione were aware of its existence and he worried that they might somehow realize he was leaving. Neither of them were very partial to him wandering around by his lonesome, but Harry wasn't concerned in the least. Hogwarts was the safest place he could be, putting aside his blonde nemesis and the unruly poltergeist and the occasional Defence professor possessed by Voldemort.

As Harry passed by, Ron and Hermione were engaged in what sounded like a heated conversation (, seemingly) about Ron's suggestion he skip charms and instead continue his comfortable nap by the fire. Hermione had not taken well to the idea. Suppressing a small laugh at the ordeal, Harry ducked out of the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady's indignant call demanding to know who had passed through. With a determined breath, Harry began the journey to Malfoy, still not entirely sure why he was going there in the first place.

It didn't take long for him to make his way through the castle given that most students were in their classes. He double checked that nobody was around to notice, and quickly slipped out the front doors into the grounds, smiling to himself when he saw Hagrid's house puffing smoke into the sky. Usually when he came out to the grounds he made a visit to Hagrid, but today was different, and so Harry set off around the castle instead. It was a quiet day, almost eerily silent. Nobody else seemed to be outside enjoying the early autumn weather, which was a bit unusual, but it was a welcome peace that Harry was sure he'd enjoy if only he had time to do so. (And if he didn't have a Malfoy-tracking mission to attend to.) He walked for a good five minutes before he reached the spot that he thought he remembered Malfoy being, wondering if perhaps he had moved since he'd checked the map.

Sure enough, the blonde was there leaning against the castle wall in an alcove, reading a book that was propped against his knees, and reminding Harry vividly of Hermione when she was especially focused on something. They even shared the same frustrated little crease between their eyebrows, and something about it softened Malfoy in a way Harry was not familiar with seeing in him. Perhaps he was just unused to seeing him without a sneer or a scowl.

"Malfoy," Harry spoke up finally, slowly pulling the cloak away to reveal his presence. Malfoy jumped so hard that his book fell to the ground and he banged his head on the bottom of the window sill that was just above him.

"What the hell are you doing here, Potter?" he hissed, grabbing the top of his head in pain and sending a glare in Harry's direction. He did not sound happy. "Why were you invisible, and more importantly, why did you decide to stop being invisible? Did you not get the memo that I fucking hate your guts? I'd be happy to remind you. And how exactly did you find me? Please do tell so I can make sure it never happens again."

"You're so abrasive. There's no need to ask so many questions." Harry frowned, leaning against the alcove wall and trying not to feel awkward and out of place, although he was most definitely both. He seemed to be forgetting what his purpose in coming out here in the first place was.

"Big word. Did you learn that all by yourself?" Malfoy seemed to be trying to gather up his things as fast as possible to get away from Harry, tossing insults at him left and right as he went. "And you didn't answer my question. How did you find me? I've never been found here before, not that I've got a very big fan club hunting for me. Not quite as impressive as yours, at any rate." He threw in a typical Malfoy sneer for effect.

"Just luck," Harry muttered, avoiding the question. "What are you . . . uh . . . what are you doing out here?" He looked around curiously, wondering what the draw could be for Malfoy. The alcove had a marvellous view of the grounds and the edge of the lake, but Harry hardly believed that Malfoy was a nature fan.

"None of your business, scarhead," sniffed Malfoy, standing up with his things swung over his shoulder. "Now that you've managed to ruin my free period, I think I'll go burn up some pictures of your ugly mug. Perhaps practice some voodoo."

"Saved pictures of me, did you?" said Harry in reply with a smirk, unable to resist the taunt, though he had yet managed to hold all of them inside. "That's very sweet. Should I expect you to get down on one knee in the near future or do I have some time to plan for the big event?"

"Is that some obscure sexual reference?" asked Malfoy in disbelief, a tinge of pink colouring his pale cheeks. His eyebrows were raised so high they had disappeared into his hair (since when had he stopped slicking it back?) and his mouth was screwed up in a mildly disgusted scowl. "One knee? Really? What's that nonsense?"

"It's how you propose to someone!" Harry defended with a blush, not having expected that he would need to explain the jab. "You know, get down on one knee and present the ring? Tears of joy, leaping into each others arms? Future marriage?"

"Muggle rubbish, I should have known." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You are daft, Potter. Wizards do not propose with some ridiculous body motion. I won't take the time to explain the proper ritual to you since I'm sure it's too complicated for your minuscule brain to process, but feel free to ask one of your more educated peers. Besides, even if we did propose marriage in such a way, you can be certain that it wouldn't be that easy to have me on my knees in front of you."

"I'm just going to go," Harry said with a shake of his head, trying to dislodge the rather shocking (and unwelcome, of course unwelcome!) image of Malfoy on his knees that had appeared. He began to walk away.

"No you are not!" exclaimed Malfoy indignantly, pushing to stand in front of him. "I just packed up all of my things because you so rudely interrupted my peace, and _I_ will be the one to leave. What were you even doing out here anyway? Come to irritate me with your presence? You're doing wonderfully if that's the case. In fact, I don't think you've failed at that once in your entire life!"

"I dunno," Harry answered honestly, trying to will the lingering blush out of his cheeks. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't causing any trouble I guess. Wouldn't be the first time."

"You are not my owner, Potter, so I would appreciate if you'd not try to keep a leash on me. What I do with my time is none of your business, nor will it ever be. I'm leaving." And with his nose held high in the air, Malfoy stalked away without another word.

"Well, you're an annoying git!" Harry called after him angrily, receiving nothing but a rude hand gesture in return. With a long-suffering sigh, Harry slid down the wall.

* * *

"I hate Malfoy," Harry mumbled under his breath to Ron and Hermione as they sat in Charms practicing a spell to make the teapot in front of them sing a pleasant tune. Harry's was doing quite the opposite: screeching like it was being tortured. Ron wasn't having much luck either, as his teapot had not yet emitted any noise at all. Hermione, of course, had her teapot singing a cheerful nursery rhyme after only a couple of attempts.

"We're well aware, Harry," she said to him, tapping her wand against the teapot and smiling when it began belting out a soulful Muggle song. "Why you went out to find him in the first place still baffles me."

"I have to agree with her there, mate," Ron added, looking disgruntled with his teapot. "Dunno why you would go looking for _Malfoy_; we're all better off if he's hiding in some secret nook."

"Not if he's plotting something, we're not," Harry said angrily, his teapot still screaming like a banshee. "I just think we should keep our eyes on him. He's been acting strange this year. I don't trust it."

"His parents are in Azkaban, of course he's acting differently." Hermione turned her stern gaze on Harry. "I personally think it's a good sign that he's not hanging around those awful friends of his. I haven't seen him with Crabbe and Goyle once this year and they look almost lost without him."

"He's still friendly with Zabini," Harry pointed out.

"I'm not sure about that," Ron said, giving up on his attempts of the spell and putting his full attention to the conversation. "He's not friendly to anyone, really. Zabini, I mean. He doesn't just dislike Muggleborns and blood traitors. He also hates Death Eaters, Goblins, Centaurs, and pretty much anything else that isn't a pure-blooded wizard that minds their own business and has a lot of money. He may hang around Malfoy sometimes, but he doesn't really like him. Unfortunately, I've gained an in-depth understanding of what Zabini doesn't approve of since he's my stupid Potions partner. He's made it quite clear in our time together that he hates red hair and freckles. He also has something against my sister, rants about how much he despises her for _ages_."

"So Malfoy is alone this year, then?" Harry asked, trying to think of a time since the year began that Malfoy had been with his usual large group of Slytherins. Now that he thought about it, he rarely saw him with anybody at all, and when he was with someone, it was nearly always Blaise Zabini. He had seen him with Pansy Parkinson once, but they had been arguing rather angrily with each other as they walked down the corridor one morning and they clearly hadn't had contact since.

"As far as I know, Malfoy is out of people to do his dirty work," said Hermione lightly. "Crabbe and Goyle still look like they're willing to do anything he asks, but he's been avoiding them like the plague. Probably to avoid making him and his family look suspicious, since everyone knows their families have Death Eater connections. He's being extremely well behaved compared to what he's normally like. I only hope it lasts."

"I'm sure he'll go right back to being a proper prat once his parents are released," said Ron moodily. "They have the Ministry on their side; everyone knows that Fudge loves Lucius Malfoy."

"I don't know," Hermione frowned at the table where she was scribbling notes about the charm she had successfully mastered. "They wouldn't have let the Malfoy's get this far into trouble if they could do anything about it. The media alone is going to cast quite a shadow on them even if they do get back to their lives. They didn't list names in the Prophet, but the information about who is going for trials got out anyway, and it's going to shake the foundation of peoples trust in them."

"Good. About time people realize what a rotten bunch they are. Don't know why they didn't throw the ferret in with them too; he might as well be a Death Eater as it is."

"Ron," Hermione sighed.

"Don't you go taking his side again!"

"I'm not, I just think you're a lot more cruel than you need to be!"

"How can you possibly-"

Harry tuned out their bickering, turning to stare out the window with a confused expression on his face. From the sounds of things, Malfoy was very much alone in the world at the moment, and regardless of how Harry felt about the git, he couldn't quite bring himself to feel glad about it.

* * *

Harry didn't run into Malfoy for the rest of the day, and he figured he should be grateful for it. The rest of the evening was spent with Ron and Hermione in the common room. A few other friends drifted in and out to say hello, reminding Harry that Malfoy was probably sitting somewhere by himself, nose tucked determinedly into a book. It lowered his spirits for a moment, but he was quickly and conveniently distracted when a firework of the Weasley twins' creation exploded above him and rained shooting stars into his lap.

The next day was mercifully a day free from the terror of Potions, although the Gryffindors did have a Defence Against the Dark Arts class which they shared with the Slytherins. Malfoy had not presented himself as a problem in these classes so far, but Harry was still a bit nervous to go to a class where his Potions partner was present.

"I'm still not sure what to think about the new professor," Ron said, glancing around nervously as they sat down as though the teacher may swoop down upon him. "He's a bit . . . odd."

"He really seems to know his stuff," Hermione pointed out in a scholarly manner, pulling out books and laying them in front of her on the desk. "But the bit where he used the conjunctivitis curse on Seamus as a demonstration was a bit worrisome, even if he did make him drink the potion to fix it straight afterwards."

She looked ready to continue into a full-blown speech on ethics in the education system, but thankfully Professor Helvetius chose that moment to make his dramatic entrance, sweeping in from behind them and strutting his way to the front of the classroom, accidentally brushing the arm of his cloak over Malfoy's head and efficiently messing up his usually pristine blonde locks. Professor Helvetius stood proudly at the front of the room and stared at them all, not noticing that one of his students was now in distress over the state of his hair.

"Today we will be working on non-verbal spells," he announced, still staring at them all in a strangely bird-like fashion, eyes darting from one to another quickly. "You will get in pairs and research the mild jinx that I will be assigning you. After you have gained sufficient knowledge on the jinx, you will practice it non-verbally on your partner. Any questions?" He said all of this very hastily, and a few students glanced at each other, not quite sure what they were supposed to have questions about. Hermione threw her hand into the air, looking rather anxious.

"Yes, Ms . . . ?"

"Granger, sir," she replied. "I'm only concerned about the jinxes . . . how serious are they?"

"Very mild, Ms. Granger. They are more frequently used as tricks and pranks than as a means to incapacitate someone. The most unpleasant of the lot will cause only mild discomfort. Nothing to be afraid of." He tried to smile convincingly at the class, but it was rather diminished by the fact that he was missing several teeth. "I would also like to add that I've been speaking to Professor Snape, who was in fact a housemate of mine when I attended Hogwarts many years ago, and he has informed me about a very interesting project that he's assigned to his sixth year Potions students."

"Oh no," Harry and Ron both whispered in horror, understanding in advance what was about to happen and not liking the prospect one bit.

"I'm aware that not all of you here are in sixth year Potions, and also that some of you may not have partners present, but if you do, I would like them to be your partner here as well. Due to the nature of the Potions project you've been assigned, it's been decided that as much time together as possible is very advisable! Other teachers have agreed so it is likely you'll be paired with that person in whatever classes you may share with them."

"Great," mumbled Ron, dropping his head violently into his hands. "Bloody wonderful. I'll bet Snape did that on purpose." Harry secretly wanted to say something along the same lines as Ron, but a glance at Malfoy stopped him. He was sitting by himself, looking back at Harry with a strange expression. It wasn't mean, or taunting, or anything that Harry was used to from the blonde. It was just expectant and curious, as though wondering what his reaction was going to be. This shocked Harry almost as much as seeing him reading thoughtfully in the alcove, and he mentally berated himself for being so susceptible to things out of the ordinary.

"Let's get to it then. Partner up, I'll pass out the jinxes when you've gotten seated again," Professor Helvetius called out, waving at them like he might swat at flies. Harry reluctantly said goodbye to Ron and Hermione and walked over to Malfoy, who scooted over to the left so Harry could sit down - a small gesture that once again surprised Harry. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the Slytherin and took the offered seat, hoping that it wasn't cursed.

"Weasley doesn't look too pleased," said Malfoy with a smirk, apparently none too upset about the fact. He was right though; Ron looked downright furious that he had to spend an extra class sitting with Zabini. They were a few rows ahead and Harry could see even from the back that his ears were red and his hands were clenched into tight fists. Zabini seemed to be talking to him, but Harry doubted it was anything pleasant to listen to.

"Well, extra time spent with a Slytherin, do you blame him?" replied Harry, pretending to be casual as he flipped open a textbook randomly and smoothed the pages.

"You can't research until we've got the jinx, Potter," Malfoy pointed out dryly. "And I don't think I know what you mean. Slytherins are the most interesting, attractive, exuberant and intelligent kind of students at Hogwarts, why would anyone not want to sit with them?"

"I can think of a few reasons," said Harry with a roll of his eyes, ignoring the jab about the textbook. "Besides, if you liked them so much, how come you weren't sitting with them?"

"The line, scarhead," said Malfoy, eyes narrowing. "You're stepping over it once again."

"Sorry," Harry replied quickly, and more honestly than he would have expected of himself. Things became quiet between them, Malfoy apparently caught up in his now malicious thoughts. Harry took advantage of the time to scope out the room for Hermione, whose Potions partner was not in the class. She was sitting with a Slytherin girl Harry didn't recognize. The Slytherin looked rather agitated, but Hermione wore a wide (and very obviously fake) grin and was chatting at the girl in an almost nervous manner. Harry smiled and turned back to Malfoy, who still looked grumpy.

"Oy," Harry caught his attention and gestured towards where Hermione sat. "Who's that?"

"Your absurd friend who needs to learn a few things about hair potions," Malfoy replied with a scowl. "I've never seen such a mane in my life. That's not a compliment. I could store the _entire_ contents of my schoolbag in there."

"You know what I mean," Harry scowled right back at him.

"Oh, you mean the girl _beside_ her?" Malfoy asked innocently, blinking his eyes in what he seemed to think was an endearing action. It might have been, if he wasn't a prat who Harry hated with his entire being. Or, most of his being anyway. "That's Melanie Upsdell." He didn't elaborate.

"Apt description." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Can't get too complicated lest you lose track of the conversation," Malfoy replied, accepting a small piece of parchment from Professor Helvetius as he passed by, ducking almost subconsciously to avoid another potential hair disaster. "Looks like we've got a jinx that makes you grow rather unsightly facial hair. Usually of a thick curly texture. Marvellous."

"Well, let's get to it," said Harry with a resigned sigh.

* * *

_boombadaboom chapter 3_

_Thank you to my amazing beta Adriena! She's over on AO3. Can't begin to explain how great she is. Thanks for dealing with me! xoxo_

_Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, more coming soon._

_~TFPW_


	4. Desperado

The remainder of Defence class went surprisingly well, what with Malfoy focused on the assignment and sometimes even forgetting to insult Harry. There were no new instances of Harry toeing the imaginary line that Malfoy had drawn between acceptable conversation and unacceptable conversation, and both of them were all the better for it. They worked through the whole class, carefully researching the prank-like curse that they had been assigned. (Well, Malfoy researched carefully, anyway. He wouldn't let Harry help with anything more than turning the pages of their textbook for fear that he'd somehow doom the whole project. Harry resisted reminding him obnoxiously that he had received an Outstanding in his Defence OWL.)

At the end of the class, Professor Helvetius clapped his hands together and strolled to the front of the classroom.

"As of now, everyone is still working on the research aspect of this assignment, so we will continue into its practical side in our next class. I would like you all to return the books you may have borrowed from the classroom and pack up your things. As homework, I'd like a foot-long essay on possible uses for your assigned curse." With that said, and without waiting for questions or concerns from his students, Professor Helvetius bowed slightly and strode right back out of the room with his head held up in a manner befitting a king.

"He struts around just like you," Harry snickered to Malfoy, who was in the process of carefully folding up their parchment full of research.

"I do not strut," Malfoy sniffed in reply, tucking his things into his bag in a much more organized fashion than Harry had ever done himself. "I am merely confident. There is a difference."

"I'm confident and I don't walk like you," Harry pointed out with a shrug. "You walk around like you own the place. You always have."

"Well, I happen to think that I walk just fine," Malfoy said, grabbing his things and standing abruptly. Harry expected him to sashay away in exactly the way they'd just discussed, but instead he stood and looked at Harry with a frown. Harry wasn't sure if he should run for safety or not; having a Malfoy stare at you never spelled out good news in his experience. Or in anyone else's experience, for that matter.

"See you tomorrow," Malfoy voiced finally, as though he were unsure of what he was saying.

"Oh, yeah, see you," Harry replied, confused. Malfoy had never given him any sort of goodbye gesture in the past. He usually preferred to turn up his nose and make a dramatic exit, bumping his shoulder roughly against Harry's if he had the chance. This goodbye was almost _friendly_ for him, something Harry had never imagined he would be on the receiving end of. He was still frowning at the retreating Slytherin's back when Ron and Hermione caught up with him and he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"You're staring at Malfoy," Ron stated, watching the subject in question slip out the door by himself. "What did he do this time?"

"It's more what he didn't do, actually," Harry replied, quickly grabbing his things and hurrying to leave with his two friends. "Aside from a couple of jabs, he was completely civil. He just sat there and did all the work, and he wouldn't even let me help. I don't know what's going on with him. I never know what to expect." He shook his head in exasperation.

"Well I'm certainly glad you're getting on better with Malfoy than I am with Zabini," asserted Ron darkly, glaring at nothing in particular to exhibit his frustration. "Even if I don't say a word he feels the need to insult everything I've ever done, and after he's had a good long rant about that, he moves on to complain about something else he doesn't like. It's unbearable." Harry nodded to acknowledge his friends suffering.

Harry wasn't sure how to feel about the development with Malfoy. He was never anything but unsure around him anymore since his entire personality seemed to switch on a dime. It was impossible to predict what he was going to say or do and Harry was starting to find it a bit exhausting trying to keep up with all of his moods. It was almost worse than dealing with Cho Chang had been. Almost.

"Oh, Harry, stop worrying about Malfoy," Hermione snapped suddenly, wrenching Harry out of his turmoil of thoughts.

"What makes you think I was thinking about Malfoy?" he demanded with his cheeks lighting up slightly against his will. The last thing he needed was his friends thinking he spent all of his time thinking about_ Malfoy_ of all people. He might think about him a little more than the average Hogwarts student, but it was hard not to when he was your partner in every class!

"It's not that hard to guess," said Hermione with a frown, as though she thought thinking about Malfoy was a very unhealthy habit to adopt. Perhaps she was right. "You obsess over him sometimes. When something happens, oh, it just _has_ to be that Malfoy is involved. You give yourself any excuse to point a finger at him. I think that being obsessed over a silly school rivalry is not worthy of your time, Harry, and you should focus on your work without having Malfoy distracting you constantly! If you just ignore him and go about your business, I'm sure he'll return the favor. He has as much schoolwork to focus on as you do."

Harry sighed. "I _am_ focused on my work, I'm just sick of dealing with him all the time. Besides, he'd never stop bothering me just because I ignored him. _Plus _we have to do a year long project together, so it's not like I can just stop speaking to him and hope for the best."

"Well, you can at least stop letting him get to you like this," she contended. They all fell into a tense silence and Harry sent a silent curse out to Malfoy. Somehow, the blonde managed to ruin things even when he wasn't anywhere in sight.

* * *

It was a complete coincidence he was there. Harry hadn't even checked the Marauders Map before he and Ron decided to sneak down to the kitchens at nine in the evening to smuggle some desserts up to their common room. (Hermione had, on principle, refused to accompany them.) What in the world were the chances that they'd run into Draco Malfoy standing alone in the entrance hall as though he were waiting for somebody to arrive? The world was against Harry Potter as always, that one thing was for certain.

"Y'know, Hermione really doesn't understand the house elves, does she? They _love_ giving us sweets. I mean we walk in without saying a word and we're up to our bloody knees in-"

"Ron, shut up," Harry hissed, pressing a hand against his chest and pushing him against the wall beside him, nearly knocking the perilous tower of snacks out of his arms. "Malfoy is out there."

"Is he stalking you? No, seriously Harry, I'm concerned about this behavior. It's not _normal_. He could be a closeted fan of yours, eh? Maybe you could just autograph his broom or -"

"Shut _up_." Harry peeked around the corner and was confused to see that Malfoy looked veritably anxious. He was standing against the wall with his arms crossed, the picture of typical Malfoy confidence. Every couple of seconds, though, he closed his eyes and huffed out a nervous breath, and his hands scratched absentmindedly at his forearms. The dark and gloomy entrance hall emphasized the apprehension rolling off him in waves.

"I'm not going out there," Harry whispered determinedly to Ron who was grumbling under his breath and attempting to rearrange the precarious pile of pastries in his arms. "Not until Malfoy is gone."

"Who knows how long he'll be out there?" Ron groaned. "He's probably waiting for some _girl,_ and Merlin knows I'm not interested in finding out what type of birds he's into."

"He looks really bothered about something, so I doubt it's a date," Harry pointed out, peeking around the corner again and seeing no change in Malfoy's behavior except a possible increase in intensity.

"The longer we sit here, the better the chance that Filch or his stupid cat will find us with armloads of stolen food. I'd rather take my chances with Malfoy and not have detention for three months, _thanks_."

Harry sighed, but didn't reply or move. Ron scowled at him but didn't make a move to leave despite his obvious discomfort about standing around waiting to get in trouble.

"Hello Draco," came a voice from around the corner. Harry's eyes widened in surprise, sure that he had heard that voice before, and he peeked again at the scene in the entrance hall.

Malfoy definitely looked nervous now. There was no confident pretense to cover it anymore. He had uncrossed his arms and they hung limply at his sides, swinging slightly as though he didn't have the power to keep them still. A decidedly worried expression creased his face as he stared at the man in front of him.

It was the Minister for Magic himself: Cornelius Fudge. A witch and a wizard stood at each side of him with their wands sitting obviously in their hands, pointed at the ground in a non-threatening manner. Harry guessed that they were Aurors assigned to protect Fudge.

"Hello Minister," Malfoy replied in a tight voice, his hands clenching slightly as he stared at the two associates that Fudge had brought with him. "I wish we were meeting under better circumstances."

"As do I, my boy," replied Fudge in what seemed to be a heavy and somber tone. "I haven't got much time, I'm afraid. My real purpose for coming to Hogwarts today is to meet with Dumbledore. We've got a lot to discuss. There seems to be no end of problems waiting to be solved these days." The Minister's face darkened considerably.

"I understand," Malfoy replied, still eyeing the two Aurors. "How are my parents?"

"As well as they can be under the strains of Azkaban, I suppose," said Fudge, taking his bowler hat in his hands and swinging it around nervously. "Your mother is as proud as ever, which surprises nobody, I'm sure. She has stopped speaking, however. Hasn't said a word since she arrived there. I visited her cell a couple of days ago to see if perhaps she wanted to work on her defense with me, but she didn't say a word the entire time." He sighed as though it personally pained him. "Your father is quite a different story. I'd love to tell you he's doing well, but he does not fare well in a cell and, in contrast to your mother, his mouth is never shut. It's doing him no favors at this point, but he will not listen to reason."

"I see," said Malfoy quietly after a short pause to digest the information. "That's not unexpected. Father has never been silent about when he feels mistreated and Mother has never been anything but dignified through troubling situations. They are coping in their own ways. When are their trials scheduled?"

"Nothing is certain in these times with the way the Ministry is fumbling about," said Fudge, plopping his bowler hat back onto his head and wringing his hands together instead. "However, we've pushed them ahead of some other people and as long as there are no complications, they will be sent to trial within two weeks. Next week, if we're lucky. It all depends on when we've got a judge and a courtroom available. We will, of course, let you know at least 48 hours in advance."

"It's so soon," replied Malfoy, looking distressed. "Why did you have their trials pushed forwards? I thought the original plan was to wait until we were positive that we had the best support frame we could possibly create. Surely they need more time to get things straightened out, to give them more of a chance-"

"Draco, my boy," Fudge began with a pitying expression. "There is very little chance that they will be released. The public is bearing down hard on the Ministry at the moment and there would be uproar if we did too much to free them. They are angry enough that you yourself are not sitting in Azkaban alongside them. Your father in particular has all evidence standing against him, and the wizarding world knows it. There is nothing to prepare for, nothing except the inevitable."

"But-" Malfoy staggered forwards as though he was going to make a grab for Fudge's coat, but he was stopped violently in his tracks by the male Auror who cast a quick spell that cemented his feet magically to the ground. "Please, there has to be something we can do!" Malfoy continued anyway, pleading with his hands and his look of distress. "I can't just sit around knowing my parents will be sentenced to this kind of fate! You can use me in any way you need to help them. I'll do anything!"

"I'm sorry," said Fudge, shaking his head and refusing to look the distraught boy in the eyes. "There is nothing else to be done. I value my place as Minister and it is threatened enough as it is without lending assistance to your parents. I have accepted that I placed my faith in the wrong family." With that said, Fudge nodded at the blank-faced Aurors at his sides and walked away without sparing a glance back at Malfoy, who looked stunned silent by the abrupt ending to their conversation. When the Auror that had stopped Malfoy in his tracks put his first foot on the steps to follow after the Minister, he turned around and released Draco from his spell. Malfoy made no attempt to run after the group. He merely stood in place, looking defeated and lost. No tears fell, but the grieving expression on his face said enough on its own.

"Merlin," Ron whispered beside Harry, bringing his mind back to where they stood, concealed in the hallway off the entrance hall with their arms full of sweets. "That was harsh."

Harry didn't know what to say. Harsh didn't seem to be a strong enough word to describe what he had just witnessed. Ron had only heard the conversation; He'd not been unlucky enough to see the crushed expression on the face of a boy who had just learned for certain that his parents were condemned. He hadn't seen the abject desolation swimming in Malfoy's piercing silver eyes, or the way he had lunged forwards as though touch could transfer his grief to someone else, make them see sense.

It wasn't that Harry felt any pity or grief over the elder Malfoy himself. No, he would never feel bad over the fate of Lucius. Any man that had the gall to pass a cursed diary into the hands of an eleven year old girl deserved whatever came his way. He had no particular opinion of Narcissa Malfoy, however. He'd always felt that she was similar to Draco in that she went with her husband's wishes without thought or question, though it was clear that she doted on Draco and cared for him deeply.

"He's leaving," said Harry quietly, watching as Malfoy took a deep shuddering breath before straightening his back and walking in the opposite direction so that all Harry could see were his shoulders. They caved in slightly despite his obvious attempts to keep them held back regally as he usually did. It was like watching a magnificent statue crack and crumble slowly before his eyes.

"Finally," Ron grumbled, clearly not worried about Malfoy's wellbeing. "Let's get out of here before we get caught. I'm surprised we haven't been already."

Harry and Ron left their hiding places and began to climb the staircase towards Gryffindor Tower, though Harry couldn't stop himself from glancing behind his shoulder every few seconds to look for a person that wasn't there. Malfoy had said he'd see him tomorrow, but Harry doubted it after what he'd just witnessed. Unbidden, an image of Malfoy's painful expression of distress flared to life in his mind. Pushing down the unexpected pang of sadness in his gut, he turned to scramble after Ron.

* * *

_I'm sorry that this is late coming out! I've been busy with moving to a different province and it's been pretty stressful. _

_Massive thanks to Adriena, my beta over on AO3! She's a genius, she saved this entire chapter. _

_In this story I've made Fudge the Minister because of his connections with the Malfoy family in the past. I know Scrimgeour is supposed to be Minister in the 6th year but Fudge suits my needs much better at the moment. (But not for long... We'll see if I decide to keep him around... You're in my hands, Fudge.) _

_Thanks for reading! As always, I'll virtually kiss your entire face if you review! _

_-TFPW_


	5. You And I Burn On

When Harry walked into the Potions dungeon the following morning, he was expecting (a little sadly) that Malfoy would not be present. He had undergone great mental stress the day before and Harry couldn't imagine that he would be fit to attend classes such a short time after essentially finding out that his parents had been condemned to a life of imprisonment.

But sure enough, sitting at his table as though nothing in the world was bothering him or would ever dare to do so, was one Draco Malfoy. He was sitting tall, back rigid and hands clasped in his lap, and if it wasn't for the slightly deadened look in his eyes Harry might have dismissed the events with the Minister as one very strange dream and decide he had reverted to the pompous Malfoy of years past. (Though Malfoy still found it in him to be regal and pompous at times.)

When Harry bid his goodbyes to Ron and Hermione and started the short walk to his shared Potions desk, he began to feel nervous about having to sit with and potentially communicate with Malfoy. He was sure that the blonde would be less than appreciative the fact that he and Ron had overheard the entire conversation the night before. Harry would have to treat him as though he had never heard a thing, though it wouldn't be an easy task. It certainly didn't help that the moment Harry moved towards the desk, Malfoy locked his steely eyes on him like a lion might do to its prey. It was the kind of stare that made you feel like you had been placed under a magnifying glass for closer inspection, and it was both uncomfortable and thrilling in a way that Harry didn't want to think too deeply about.

"Good morning," he said nervously as he pulled up his stool next to the Slytherin. It made a screeching noise that seemed far too loud in the quiet dungeon. Malfoy didn't reply at first, choosing instead to stare at him in a calculating way that made Harry want to spill his guts about everything he had ever kept a secret in his life. What if he knew that Harry had overheard his private meeting with Fudge? Any progress they'd made that year with their rough relationship would surely be tossed into the trash if that were the case.

"Hello," replied Malfoy at last, turning his gaze back to the front of the room. His mouth was turned down into a deep frown - an unusual change from the patent Malfoy smirk that he favoured - and it looked out of place on his face, like he wasn't designed for frowns that were any less than patronizing. It revealed more about how he was feeling than Harry imagined he would display.

"Um," Harry began, unsure of how to proceed with this rather strange and apathetic reception. "How are you?" The moment the words came out of his mouth, he wished fervently that he could summon them back. What a stupid question to ask! He knew exactly how he was! Now Malfoy would be forced to lie and he'd be reminded of the night before and he'd hate Harry and would run out of the room in a temper like he had before and -

"What?"

Malfoy had turned away from his staring contest with the wall to look at Harry like he was a two-headed hypogriff. Frankly, Harry couldn't blame him. It was more than a bit disconcerting looking into his piercing grey eyes, searching Harry like silver bullets that went right through his skin and into his soul. Or perhaps Harry was being a bit melodramatic and paranoid. Either way, he was fidgeting madly under the Slytherin's stare as he fumbled around in his head for an answer.

"I said - uh, I asked how you were. I mean, how you are. How are you?"

Malfoy merely narrowed his eyes into withering slits that made Harry put his hand on his thigh, then move it back to the desk, then scratch lightly at the back of his neck, all in quick succession. Why hadn't he just mumbled a quick "Nothing." and left it at that? Malfoy's stare was so _knowing_ and Harry felt like he would spontaneously combust at any second, even if it was just from the overheating blush that spread from his neck all the way to the tip of his ears. Harry quickly turned to look at the front of the class. He could still feel the blonde's eyes on him.

When he heard the faint rustle and creak of Malfoy's robe and chair that signalled he had turned back around, Harry nearly slumped over in relief, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Malfoy _knew_. But then why hadn't he made a fuss about it? Surely he wouldn't just leave it be, would he?

"I'm shit, to be perfectly honest," came the unexpected reply from the blonde. Harry twisted his head around to look at him so quickly it was a miracle he didn't get whiplash. Malfoy didn't seem to notice, though, as he was still staring determinedly at the front of the room like he wanted to burn holes through the stone walls. Harry blinked, his mental tirade of worries coming to an abrupt stop.

Malfoy clenched his jaw, then unclenched it. Clench. Unclench. Three times in a row, as if he was willing himself to say something but the words couldn't come out. Harry waited, mostly because all his mental functions seemed to stop at the Slytherin's revelation. A _Slytherin_. More specifically, a certain blonde Slytherin who devoted quite a hefty portion of his life to hating Harry. Of all the outcomes he had imagined, this hadn't even made it on the list, and he had no idea what the correct thing to say was.

Clench. Unclench.

"I'm in quite an . . . unfortunate . . . situation at the moment," the Slytherin said slowly, as if choosing each word carefully in order to give as little as possible away. Then he released a dry, dour laugh, shoulders shaking slightly as he looked down towards the desk, then up at Harry. "And to make matters worse, I've got no one but Harry bloody Potter to talk to about it."

"What?" Harry said, confused. Malfoy was a bit more introspective this year, but he must still have _some_ friends in Slytherin. Why choose Harry? "I mean, you can talk to me if you want. I wouldn't mind. I know I'm not your favourite person in the world, but I'll listen to you if you want to vent a bit."

Malfoy once again lay his calculating look on Harry, but this time he just sat and stared back, trying to relay his sincerity to him through his expression alone. He decided not to worry about the fact he found himself actually _wanting_ Malfoy to speak to him, for whatever reason.

"Good," Malfoy said primly. "Well, that's . . . nice to know," he added, reverting to the careful enunciation he'd used earlier. In an instant he'd turned to glare at the wall again. "Meet me at the library tonight after dinner at the desk in front of the window in the Transfiguration section. We can work on our stupid Potions project and perhaps I'll take you up on your offer. We need to get a start on the damned thing sooner or later, I suppose. Don't you dare be late. I don't appreciate tardiness." His voice was crisp, bordering professional and wholly unrevealing.

"Okay." Harry frowned. He had imagined that getting Malfoy to work on the project with him would be a tedious affair and that perhaps it wouldn't happen at all. Now he wanted to spend the time working with him _and_ talking to him about his troubles with his parents? Voldemort himself was proving more predictable than the elegant blonde sitting next to him.

"We need to do more of those ridiculous question-and-answer things when we work on our project, by the way," Malfoy pointed out, indicating a piece of parchment in front of him with a long list written in green ink on it. "I've written a few we can start with. Mine are quite a bit more interesting than the ones that Snape had on the blackboard the other day, but he wasn't joking around when he said that we need to get to know each other more than we do now. The last thing I want is to mess this potion up and be stuck in your mind or worse, vice versa."

"I guess questions should be okay," Harry said, trying to drag the list towards him, but he was thwarted by Malfoy who quickly shoved it back into the depths of his schoolbag. "There better not be anything embarrassing on there though."

"Guess you'll find out tonight," Malfoy replied in a tone that feigned innocence, but was far more suggestive than it had any right to be. Harry clenched his jaw and turned to face the front, trying his best to ignore the jump of excitement that occurred when the words slipped from Malfoy's mouth. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about what had been said and yet Harry was sure he had never heard a sentence said with so many risqué undertones in his life. He peeked at the Slytherin from the corner of his eye and tried to determine whether he had done it on purpose or not, or if he'd imagined the entire thing. Malfoy simply sat as haughtily as ever, and Harry realized that he had most likely exaggerated something that wasn't even there. How embarrassing.

"Textbooks out, page thirty-seven," came a bored voice from the doorway. Harry turned to see Snape making his grand arrival, sweeping in with black robes billowing. "You will not be working on your projects, so I certainly hope that you are making plans to work on them outside of class. Today we will be studying the intricate properties and uses of unicorn hair and horns."

"Fascinating," came the quiet retort from beside him. Harry peeked over again and saw Malfoy rolling his eyes. "It's not like we went over this _three_ times last year or anything. I've got this page of the textbook burned onto the inside of my eyelids, for Merlin's sake."

"Have we done this before?" Harry asked, opening his own textbook and looking over the page. "Doesn't look familiar to me at all."

"Those of us who don't spend the class sleeping in our cauldrons would be well aware that this has been covered multiple times. As a matter of fact, one of the questions on the OWL was about the uses of unicorn hair. How on earth did you pass, Potter?"

"I have an extraordinary amount of luck," Harry said with a small humourless laugh. "I suppose it's good for more than just escaping the clutches of dark lords."

"You're hilarious," Malfoy replied dryly. Snape had taken his seat at his desk after waving his wand and making a series of notes appear on the blackboard. Clearly he wanted them to copy the notes down and look over them individually, as he didn't look like he was going to be getting up anytime soon to give them a lecture. Some of the points on the board _did_ look a little familiar, so maybe Malfoy was right and it had been gone over in previous years. Malfoy seemed to be right about a good deal of things.

"Oi, what's that word right beside 'unusual' on the second bullet?" Harry asked, squinting and adjusting his glasses to try to make it out.

"It's 'consistency'." Malfoy replied easily, scratching his own notes down at a much faster rate. "Snape's handwriting is terrible."

"Yeah, it is. Thanks." He sent a smile at the blonde and was surprised when he received one in return. With confusing butterflies in his stomach, Harry turned back to his parchment.

* * *

Harry didn't reveal his plans to meet up with Malfoy that evening to Ron or even Hermione. Malfoy was remarkably improved from what he had been in the past years but his friends didn't see the change and would certainly not approve of Harry meeting with him alone. Ron would be horrified that he was going at all and Hermione would surely insist that they do the project in groups so that they could all keep a sharp eye to Malfoy.

He made his way to the library after dinner that evening (having fed his friends a quick excuse about going to the dungeons to have a meeting with Snape, hoping that they would be too intimidated to go confirm that he was even there) with more nerves than he ever would have imagined having when meeting Malfoy somewhere. Well, maybe nerves about being cursed and sent to St. Mungo's, but he had a feeling that he didn't need to worry too much about that this evening. What he was feeling in his gut was a mix of anxiety and excitement that he had felt for Cho once upon a time, though comparing Malfoy to a girl he had a crush on in fourth and fifth year was a little more disturbing than he could handle at the moment. The reason he was so nervous was likely attributed to the fact that he really did want to be Malfoy's friend, or even just his ally, and there were so many ways that it could go wrong.

The Slytherin was already sitting at the table he had specified when Harry arrived and he seemed to be poring over several books at once. Again, Harry was reminded of Hermione and he fought to hold back the fond smile that threatened to take over his face. The desk he chose had a view of the grounds and was in an aisle that wasn't often occupied, and Harry was happy for the privacy. The last thing he needed were people listening in on their conversations.

Malfoy looked up when he sat at the table and shoved one of the open books towards him. "Here," he said briskly. "Look over that, it's got loads of information about the Mind Diving Potion and how it can go wrong if it's not made properly. Educate yourself."

"Oh, okay." Harry frowned. He hadn't even settled in and already he was being assigned a portion of work to attend to. Malfoy flicked his eyes up to Harry's once more and then back down to his books, reading at a pace that looked uncomfortable. Instead of looking over the text that had been shoved roughly under his nose, Harry chose to stare at Malfoy. While he watched, Malfoy took a deep breath and exhaled like he was trying to calm himself. His eyes were restless, never stopping in one spot, and his fingers played absently with the end of his tie. If Harry wasn't mistaken, Malfoy was a bit . . . nervous.

Just as he was about to stop his rather creepy staring and begin reading the page he had been given, Malfoy glanced up. Their eyes locked for a moment and Malfoy visibly clenched his jaw and quickly looked back down at the desk. Harry pretended he hadn't noticed, but his heart was beating a little faster than normal when he pulled the textbook closer to him.

"So," he said casually as he ran his eyes pointlessly over the words that he wasn't reading. "You wanted to talk, right? Maybe you should take me up on my offer now." He didn't glance back up, hoping that Malfoy would be more comfortable if he didn't have to suffer through eye contact while spilling his guts to someone he wasn't particularly fond of. God, how had they gotten to this point? Harry acting as armchair psychologist for the bloke who'd given him hell throughout some of the worst years of his life?

"Maybe," Malfoy replied quietly, rustling the pages of his book. His jaws did the same clench-unclench dance they did earlier. Harry very nearly told him to stop lest he break his jawbone, but the situation was entirely too surreal. He took a deep breath of the library's familiar scent of old books.

"I'm not so good at talking."

"Oh please," Harry rolled his eyes and couldn't resist looking at the boy across from him. "You've done nothing _but_ talk since I've met you."

"That's different," Malfoy mumbled, clearly a little unsure of himself. "I could talk your ear off about my estate or my wealth or my pure-blood status, but when it comes to things that are personal to any extent, I never know where to start."

"Just . . . start wherever you're comfortable, I guess. I'm not the best at talking about these things either."

"Thanks, Dr. Potter, you're a massive help," Malfoy replied sarcastically. "Merlin, it's strange speaking to you and trying not to use any of my witty quips. I'm going to lose my touch if this keeps up. Quick, get Weasley so I can insult him."

"Shove it Malfoy," Harry sighed. He could tell it was a defense mechanism, but they wouldn't get anywhere if he threw up all his walls. "Get on with it. What's wrong?"

Malfoy pushed his books away with a huff. Looking at Harry, he seemed to steel himself. "I know you know more than you're letting on, Potter." Malfoy didn't look at him, he looked into him, and Harry could only look back like a deer in headlights. His mouth went dry, his palms began to sweat, and his pulse felt quite insistent on beating its way out of his neck. Bloody hell, what was he supposed to say now? Had Malfoy really seen him and Ron? "I don't know how you know, though, or how much." He said, slumping back into his chair. "Well, as you somehow managed to figure out**,** my parents are currently awaiting trials to decide whether or not they'll be spending the remainder of their lives in prison. You might not particularly care about what happens to them, but they _are_ my parents and like the spectacular child that I am, I _do_ care about them. My mother in particular, she doesn't deserve . . ." he trailed off, as if the thought was too uncomfortable to continue. "Anyway, I've recently received some updates about their well-being from the minister himself."

"Oh, wow." Harry raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was well feigned surprise. "What did he say?"

"Mostly what you'd expect to hear," Malfoy replied quietly. "They're not doing well in Azkaban and when I asked about their trials, he informed me that they're taking place within the next couple of weeks. It's much, much earlier than we expected and our defence isn't as strong as it should be. Fudge said that there's no need of waiting any longer because they're almost certainly going to be condemned no matter what sort of defence we show up with." Malfoy let out a deep sigh. "Father will never forgive me if he gets stuck in Azkaban. It'll be all my fault, you wait and see. I'm doing all I can, but our family name seems to hold more shame than power these days and nobody is willing to help us."

"That's harsh," Harry said, echoing Ron's words of the night before and trying to sound like he hadn't heard all of this already. "Still, this isn't your fault. You can't be blamed for the choices that other people have made."

"I've made bad choices too," Malfoy admitted, looking Harry in the eyes for the first time since he had started speaking. "Take a look at my school career, for example. I've said and done a lot of awful things, a lot of them to you and Weasley and Granger. I don't understand why you agreed to meet up with me, Potter, and I definitely don't understand why you're willing to sit there and listen to me like I'm your friend after all the shit I've put you through. You're aggravating." He scowled at Harry like he had done something to personally offend him.

"I guess I believe that people can change," Harry replied, realizing as he said it that he genuinely believed was true. "It might have taken a bad situation for you to stop acting like a complete prat, but at least you're giving it a shot. The same can't be said for a lot of people."

"You're so annoyingly trusting," Malfoy groaned, laying his head on his arms. "What if all of this was done just to lure you into a false sense of security so I could deliver you straight into the arms of the dark lord? You'd be a goner!"

"If you were trying to lure me into a sense of false security, you'd have to act a hell of a lot nicer than you have been," Harry smirked at the indignant look Malfoy shot him. "You've been a half decent human being for what, a day? Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"Says the one that was going to get on his knees for me a couple of days ago," Malfoy tossed back with an evil grin, recovering quickly from his sombre mood. "What was that all about, Potter? I mean, I had _assumed_, but to be so forward about it was very daring. Not at all what I expected."

"You-!" Harry flushed and glared at him. "I told you that was a Muggle tradition!"

"Of course it is." Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "And what a wonderful excuse that would be, as I'm a bit lacking in Muggle education. Not that I'm complaining, not having my mind filled with rubbish Muggle business is a small blessing."

"And you call _me_ aggravating." Harry frowned, trying to will the pink out of his cheeks. Malfoy was unusually (and maddeningly) talented at embarrassing him. "You don't even know anything about the Muggle world. I'm sure they've invented something that you'd enjoy."

"I expect not." Malfoy's face lit up suddenly. "Oh, I've just remembered! The questions. Let's start those now that I've spilled my heart out to you and all that sappy bullshit." He leaned over and disappeared under the table for a moment to rustle through his schoolbag before popping back up with the list of questions that Harry had tried to peek at in the morning. He seemed eager to leave their previous conversation. "I imagine we should probably get a start on these while we're acting relatively civil to one another. There's no telling how long it's going to last."

"Not long, if any of those questions are embarrassing," Harry said, trying to glance at the list. Malfoy held it out of his reach. He was half-hoping Malfoy was just being foreboding and he'd ask about something simple, like Harry's favorite food or future aspirations. Knowing Malfoy, though, hoping was a lost cause.

"I'm going first," he stated in a demanding tone.

Harry resigned himself to his fate. "Fine."

"First question, if you could shag any girl in the school, who would you choose?"

Harry groaned. "Malfoy, I classify that as embarrassing."

"Why?" replied the blonde with a very exaggerated raising of his eyebrows. "It's just an innocently curious question. You're too sensitive about these things, Potter!"

"I don't even know how to answer, I haven't really thought about it," Harry replied, scouring his mind for a girl he had found attractive recently. None were forthcoming. "Uh, well, that Ravenclaw a year ahead of us is, uh, cute."

"Oh, yes, I know _exactly_ who you're talking about despite the fact that there are at least fifteen reasonably attractive Ravenclaw females in the year ahead of us." Malfoy put his chin in his hand and looked at Harry with a scowl. "A few details, if you please?"

"I don't know her name." If he was honest, he didn't really know much about what she looked like either. "She's got long black hair and she hangs around with other houses a lot."

"Must be Brenda Hill." Malfoy squinted his eyes as though he was mentally scrolling through a list of contacts. His nose wrinkled slightly. "Her father works at the ministry, never did like him much."

"Thanks for the background check, but I'm not quite that interested in her." Harry sat back in his chair and wondered how much worse Malfoy's questions would get and if he would even be capable of refusing to answer them. Having the Slytherin's icy gaze locked onto his face might as well be the equivalent of shoving Veritaserum down his throat.

"Well, I suppose we'll move on then. Have you got a question for me or should I continue?"

"Same question for you, I guess," Harry replied with a shrug. If he had to be asked these mortifying questions, at least he could get Malfoy to do the same. With a little luck, maybe he'd even be able to embarrass him. That would be one for the record books.

"Amelia Delacroix, seventh year Slytherin" Malfoy answered without hesitation. "She's originally from France, but her parents are of Spanish origin."

"Fascinating," Harry replied, a bit disappointed that Malfoy hadn't stuttered or shown any sign of being unsure about what he was saying. "What's the next question, then?"

The diabolical smirk that spread across Malfoy's face should have been his signal to turn and run for the door. "If you could shag any _bloke_ in the school, who would you choose?"

Harry felt his face light up from his neck to his ears. "What kind of question is that? I'm not interested in blokes!"

"Oh, please," Malfoy rolled his eyes, smirk still firmly in place. "Everyone can daydream a little bit. Choose someone or I'll just have to make the decision for you. Trust me, you won't like who I pick."

With the threat of Malfoy telling the school that he had a big fat crush on Goyle or someone of that calibre, he quickly ran down the list of male students that he knew. Plenty of them were attractive and cool to be around, but he didn't particularly want to imagine himself being anything more than friendly with them. Out of nowhere his mind hissed that if he wanted to embarrass Malfoy, all he had to do was say it was _him_ that he'd shag. Unfortunately, Harry would likely only embarrass himself in the process, and thinking too much about being with the blonde like that wouldn't do any favours for his delicate mind.

"Seamus Finnegan?" he replied finally, making it sound like more of a question than anything else. "I mean, I wouldn't, but if you forced me to, at least he's nice and-"

"And fit?" Malfoy laughed a bit. "Guess you could have picked someone worse. I expected you to choose Weasley or someone equally as ungodly."

"Ron is like my brother!" Harry exclaimed in horror.

"Calm down Wonder-Boy, I was just speculating out loud," Malfoy waved a hand dismissively at him. "Your turn."

Harry scowled. "Same question."

"But I'm not interested in blokes!" Malfoy squealed as a bad imitation of Harry's earlier complaint. "Merlin, you're such a baby. Everyone gets curious, Potter, no need to be so prudish."

"If you're so open about being curious, then who would you choose?" Harry crossed his arms and stared at the arrogant boy in front of him.

"First of all," Malfoy started, "I'm not just _curious, _I was imitating you sarcastically. Secondly, I would probably have to go with Terry Boot from Ravenclaw, everyone is interested in him. He might even be more popular than you, and Merlin knows I'd feel powerful sleeping with the most popular boy in school. Particularly since he's as straight as an arrow." He smirked.

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway. "When you say you're not just curious, you don't mean…?"

"Exactly what it sound like," Malfoy replied with a shrug. "I don't restrict myself."

"Oh." Harry blinked a few times, making an attempt of acting like it didn't affect him. "That's… good." Of all the reasons to have butterflies take up residence in his stomach, Malfoy admitting that he wasn't exclusively straight was not one he had expected.

"Don't go into convulsions on me now, Potter," said the blonde.

"I'm just a little surprised," Harry replied. "I didn't know."

"Not many people do. I don't make a habit of spreading the information around. I trust that you won't be calling the Prophet up the moment you leave the room?"

"No, of course not," Harry exclaimed quickly. "I'd never do something like that. It's not my business."

"Isn't it?" Malfoy asked quietly. Harry's heart jumped uncomfortably. With a louder voice, Malfoy added, "Thank you for listening to me. You'd be surprised at how few people I know who I'm able to talk to. Not that you're exactly my ideal choice or anything, but you're someone. It took me quite a while to decide whether or not to suggest meeting up because I wasn't sure how you'd react."

"I don't mind, really," Harry said. "I mean, I never expected that I'd ever have an actual conversation with you, but it's not as terrible as I would have imagined."

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment," Malfoy replied with one side of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Shall we continue with the questions?"

"Yeah, go on." Harry smiled and found himself eagerly awaiting the questions rather than fearing them. Nobody needed to know that he might enjoy a Slytherin's company a little, or a lot more than he should. And if he could be a shoulder for Malfoy to lean on in the process of getting to know him? All the better.

* * *

_Massive thanks to Adriena over on AO3 as usual for being my amazing beta! _

_This should have been out earlier because I've had it written for quite a while but unfortunately I couldn't get it to my beta because of a lack of internet thanks to my move. Internet is back now though and I'm back in business! Next chapter is already half written. _

_I'll love you more than chinese food if you review and let me tell you that is one heck of a lot. Okay, maybe not more than chinese food. Maybe equal to chinese food. Maybe._

_BY THE WAY ISN'T DEADPOOL THE BEST COMIC BOOK CHARACTER EVER the answer is yes_

_-TFPW_


	6. Times Are Strange

The remainder of the questions on Malfoy's ridiculously long list were less humiliating than the first couple had been. They mostly consisted of boring questions like what his favourite colour was and what he wanted to do when he left Hogwarts. None of them prompted Harry to blush and splutter embarrassedly, which he was more than a little grateful for. In between questions they spent ages discussing each others answers which made their session drag on much longer than either of the two had expected. (Malfoy had been particularly stuck on the fact that Harry had never been to France, and proceeded to lecture him on what seemed to be the entire history of the country.)

"This can be our last one, I think," said Malfoy with a small yawn that he attempted unsuccessfully to hide behind his hand. "I'm a bit tired after debating Quidditch for an hour. Your predictions on who'll take the cup this year are shit, by the way."

"Go ahead then," Harry replied, choosing not to reply to the quip about his Quidditch knowledge, knowing full well that it would lead to another heated discussion and they'd likely be there all night. He glanced at his watch suddenly, having forgotten about time since he'd started talking to Malfoy. It was just past nine, but he had a feeling that his friends wouldn't be very understanding about him being gone for hours on end without a very good excuse. He also had a feeling that hanging out with Malfoy would not qualify as "a very good excuse". Malfoy cleared his throat and folded his fingers together on the desk in front of him before saying,

"My final question of the evening is: what do you think of Draco Malfoy, the dashing Slytherin that you've been lucky enough to socialize with?" Malfoy stared him down with a blank expression. He'd clearly invented the question, as he hadn't glanced down at their list (which they were slowly ticking off as they progressed through it) and he seemed much more interested in this answer than he had been when Harry reluctantly told him that his favourite colour was red. (After which he had to endure a good many taunts about how he was _definitely_ in love with Gryffindor.)

"What I think about Draco Malfoy changes on a daily basis," replied Harry slowly, considering his words carefully and hoping that the blonde wouldn't be insulted by his answer. "A few days ago I'd have done anything to switch partners for the Potions assignment because I was certain that I hated you more than just about anyone else on the planet. Now I'm sitting with you and for some strange reason, I'm enjoying it. I always pegged you as arrogant, cruel, and cowardly without knowing that you're smart, funny, and a hell of a lot more loyal to people you care about than I would ever have given you credit for. I'm not sure how I'll feel tomorrow or the next day or whenever you choose to snap and storm away in a temper or call someone a horrible name or insult my friends, but for now I'd go as far as to say that I like your company." He shrugged and added, " I feel like we could be a good team if we worked at it a bit."

"No comments about my dazzling good looks and flawless fashion sense?" Malfoy asked, pretending to scowl but instead winding up with a smile on his face. "I can't promise that I won't lose my temper or insult someone in a way that you don't approve of, but that's just something that comes along with me as a package deal. Everyone has their quirks."

"I'd call them bad habits, actually," said Harry with a smirk. "And you come with more than the average person."

"Ha _ha_, Potter, get on with your last question before I think better of this arrangement."

"Fine, same one for you," he replied, quite curious about what Malfoy might have come to think about him in the short time that they'd actually been civil to one another.

"What do I think of Draco Malfoy?" Malfoy asked, clapping a hand to his chest in a dramatic fashion. "I thought you'd never ask! I think he is charismatic and handsome and entrancing-"

"You know what I mean," Harry groaned. "What do you think about _me, _not yourself! We hear enough of that every day."

"Oh, well that changes things a bit," said Malfoy offhandedly, pursing his lips in thought. "What do I think of Saint Potter. Well, he's certainly never brushed his hair in the past decade."

"Be serious, Malfoy. I answered yours honestly," Harry reminded him with a scowl.

"Fine," the Slytherin sighed. "I hated you, as you're well aware. Matter of fact, I probably hated _you_ a lot more than you ever hated _me_. In your case I was just an inconvenient prat that bullied you around a bit, but my hatred stemmed from humiliation and jealousy. I was angry that you didn't accept my offer of friendship and I was jealous of both your fame and your relationship with the people around you." Malfoy's eyebrows furrowed and he looked frustrated. "I hated being jealous more than I hated just about anything. I'm a Malfoy, I'm supposed to have everything I want ready and waiting at my fingertips."

"You were jealous?" Harry interrupted. "All you ever did was tell me what was missing from my life! How could you possibly have wanted anything I had?"

"Look at your friends for a moment," Malfoy said. "Now take a look at mine. Oh, right! They're not around anymore, are they? The moment they found out that my parents were incarcerated, I was abandoned like an old toy. My name has always meant a lot more than I am as a person, even to those who pretended they cared about me as a person. The only ones that tried to stick by me were Crabbe and Goyle, and the only reason they did so was because they knew they wouldn't pass the year without me." Malfoy gave the table a disgusted glare. "Blaise occasionally falls in step with me, but only when he's got little choice over the matter. He's told me himself that he's got no actual interest in being my friend when my family name is disgraced."

"That's terrible," Harry was quick to say. "Friends are supposed to be there through anything, not just abandon you when it's convenient for them."

"Your friends are Gryffindors," said Malfoy with a small unhappy smile. "Slytherins aren't quite so forgiving."

"So what about now?" Harry asked slowly, surprised that Malfoy had insulted Slytherin in an offhand sort of way. "Do you still feel that way about me?"

"Obviously not, Scarhead." Malfoy grinned, quick as always to switch moods. "Speaking with you a bit has led me to the conclusion that you're not as dumb and arrogant as I thought you were. I actually quite enjoyed spending time with you today, but don't you dare ever make me admit that again in my life. I can't have people thinking I actually _like_ Harry Potter. It's not good for my image. What's left of it, anyway."

"Yes, I suppose I would be a terrible thing for your image. People might actually think you were _friendly_," Harry stated solemnly with his hand over his heart.

"I'm not friendly," Malfoy retorted like it was a terrible thing to be. "I am charming and diplomatic."

"Right." Harry rolled his eyes. "I think I'm going to head back now, Ron and Hermione are probably going out of their minds."

"Go on then, you wouldn't want your little companions getting too worried." Malfoy waved him off. "I'm going to stay here and do some studying on the potion. I would rather it be me that does most of the work anyway. I've seen your Potions work and I can't say I've been very impressed."

"Have it your way," Harry replied, gathering his scattered things and standing up. "See you sometime soon, then."

"See you later." Malfoy gave him a smile as he left, and Harry cursed inwardly as the butterflies began flying again.

* * *

During his walk back to his common room, Harry couldn't help but think about Malfoy, and how their one-on-one encounter had gone. It had been very strange to sit with him and actually talk about things he enjoyed, like Quidditch, instead of volleying insults back and forth until someone finally snapped and threw a hex. He was more familiar with the tip of Malfoy's wand than he was with the tiny dimple that appeared in his cheek when he smiled. Despite how unusual their meeting was, he had enjoyed it more than he could have ever predicted before walking into the room. When Malfoy wasn't insulting someone or sneering, he was actually kind of… fun. Ron and Hermione were excellent friends and he wouldn't trade them for anyone or anything, but they lacked the brutal honesty and unfiltered mouth that Malfoy possessed. Harry had despised the witty side of Malfoy when it was being used to aggravate him, but now he was coming to look forwards to the sharp-tongued remarks.

"I'm going mad," Harry mumbled to himself as he climbed the stairs towards Gryffindor tower. "That's the only explanation. I've completely lost it."

Nobody was around when he reached the Fat Lady's portrait, and she admitted him into the common room with no trouble aside from a quick quip about how he needed to 'get that dreamy look off your face, boy!' Ignoring her comment, he slipped through the portrait hole and into the familiar and comforting sights and sounds of the Gryffindor common room. Less familiar and comforting was the appearance of Hermione (with Ron sullenly following) with her arms crossed and her glare centered directly on Harry himself. He stopped in his tracks, fearful of approaching what was clearly a very unimpressed Hermione Granger. (Best friend or not, she could be intimidating when she chose to be.) She stood a few feet apart from Harry and he instantly knew something was wrong. Her stance was angry and Ron was almost cowering behind her, as though he feared that she would turn her rage on him.

"So," she started off in a sharp voice, "Where have you been?"

"Uh," he replied intelligently, looking around the room desperately for some sort of assistance. Ron looked like he'd rather not be there at all and the few people that had been sitting nearby quickly departed when they saw the look on Hermione's face. "I told you when I left at dinner."

"Oh, a meeting with Professor Snape, was it?" Hermione scowled and crossed her arms even tighter than before. "And just what was your meeting about for it to last as long as it did?"

"Just Potions help," he supplied with a tone of voice that suggested it should have been obvious. "You know I'm rubbish at his class, Hermione, I always have been."

"So a week into the year, he's decided to jump in and lend a hand? Since when has he been so generous?" she demanded. She was quiet for a moment then, staring Harry down and making him feel as though he were two feet tall. Though her stance showed nothing aside from anger, he saw a bit of hurt and betrayal in the set of her expression. "I can't believe you'd lie to us like that," she said quietly. "I've always trusted you to be truthful and honest, even when you know that we're going to think differently about something than you are. We won't always agree on things, but that doesn't mean you need to lie to us. We're here to help you make decisions, Harry, not to be placated so you can do what you please without interference."

"I don't understand what you're-"

"Lavender was in the library picking up a book for McGonagall's class when, interestingly enough, she spotted you sitting at a desk with Draco Malfoy talking and laughing like you'd been friends for years. When she returned to the common room, she asked us if we were friends with Malfoy now, since you certainly seemed to be getting along with him well enough." She scowled. "You can imagine our surprise when she told us what she had seen."

Harry stared at her helplessly. Her anger radiated off her in waves, suffocating him under its weight. He knew that she'd be upset if she knew that he had been spending time with Malfoy, but he didn't expect that she would be quite so outward about it. If he had expected anyone to be this angry, it would have been Ron, but he was simply standing behind Hermione like he wanted no part of it.

"We had to work on our project," he blurted out at last, desperate to find some excuse to get him out of trouble. "We were studying the potion, like Snape told us to do. I wouldn't react like this if you went to study with Terry Boot, or if Ron had to work on his project with Zabini!"

"Oh please Harry, I do have a brain," Hermione snapped. "I know very well that you've been friendly with Malfoy the past couple of days. Besides, even if you were there to work on your project and _nothing else_, you would have told us the truth instead of covering it up with some ridiculous story! I'm astounded that you're willing to put aside your, no, _our_, past with Malfoy so quickly despite all of the things that he's said and done to us! How many times did he call me a Mudblood? What about all the things he said about Ron's family, and about your parents? He's a rotten person and you're foolish to trust him like this! He's _using_ you!"

Harry stared at her in disbelief. "Weren't _you_ the one going on about how I should focus on working with him and that he wasn't a concern this year because of what's happening to his parents? He's changed! He might still be a git at times, but he's trying to change into something better than what he was! Don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt, at least?"

"We don't owe him anything," Hermione remarked in a cold tone that he rarely heard enter her voice.

"Ron?" he prompted, turning to meet eyes with his less angry friend. "What do you think of all this?"

"Err, I dunno," Ron mumbled, scratching his arm and trying to avoid Harry's gaze. "I mean, you might seem to think he's okay, but that doesn't change the things he's done in the past. I don't think spending time with him is a good idea, mate. For all we know, he's doing it to get close to you just so he can hurt you in the end." He met his eyes then and looked a little apologetic. "I won't stop you if you want to be friends with him, but I won't go along with it either, not after what him and his father have done to my family."

"Right." Harry clenched his jaw and stared at his friends, one angry and one standing by with a sort of quiet disappointment. "Well, good to know how you feel. I'm going to bed. Goodnight." Without another word, he strode past both of them without looking at either, then made his way across the common room and climbed the steps to the boys dormitory. He didn't hesitate to collapse onto his bed face-down, nearly snapping his glasses in the process.

His friends didn't approve. He had known from the beginning that they wouldn't and had tried to hide it from them in the hopes that he could slowly warm them up to the idea that hey, maybe Malfoy wasn't _quite_ as big a prat as they had originally thought. Clearly they had no intentions of giving him any sort of chance whatsoever. Without warning, anger burned through his body, a surprising reaction to the lack of forgiveness of the people around him. Malfoy was entirely different than what he would have ever imagined, and though he never thought he'd think it in his life, he deserved better than what he was getting. He had no real friends and soon he wouldn't even have family. Harry knew the feeling all too well, and he would never wish it on another person, not even when the other person was Malfoy.

With a sigh that only seemed to increase the tension in his body, Harry rolled over on his side and placed his glasses on the night table beside his bed before pulling his curtains closed around him. With his thoughts still unsettled and focused on Malfoy, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep without even crawling under the covers.

* * *

_Hi guys! Massive thank you as always to my beta Adriena over on AO3. She's awesomeeeeee!_

_Not much to say except that Hermione is not mean! She's not meant to be the bad guy here! She's a concerned friend and she's a friend that doesn't like being lied to and ditched for someone who Harry says he doesn't even like. Do you blame her? Oh, and Ron is terrified of her when she's angry, so he's just letting her take the wheel._

_Thanks for reading! _

_~TFPW_


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